The Conversations of Souls
by Anster
Summary: It has been a year since Augustus Waters died, but that's not the end. Stories and books never quite end. They live on in the minds of readers, and this reader(me, your author) had to write more about Hazel Grace and Isaac. Read about how they react to Augustus's 1-year death anniversary.


**Augustus' POV- **

God, she's so beautiful. I knew she'd be here. I see her walk over to me; she's dragging her oxygen tank behind her. I want so badly to reach for her, to hold her tight in my arms and tell her that I'm okay, that I'm here. I can't help but smile as I see she's wearing my shirt, a grey one with a navy blue symbol for the Butler basketball team.

I watch as she moves to sit on one of the bones belonging to the Funky Bones sculpture; I know that Hazel knows exactly which bone that is. I sit next to her and put my hand on hers, but I know there's no way she could feel it. Her hand is as cold as I remember, they're under oxygenated.

I quickly pull away as she yanks her hand away at my touch. She looks at her hand and marvels at it, then looks directly into my eyes, I freeze, can she tell that I'm here? "Hazel Grace?" I place my hand against her cheeks and she seems to lean into it, but there's no way she can feel it, and she looks away.

"Gus." She says aloud,"It's been a year since you died." Her voice is already starting to crack and I can see her eyes getting watery. "I was invited to your mom's death anniversary party for you, but Gus, I can't go, I can't bear to go to your house while you're not there, I can't bear seeing your books, your video games. I don't want to see pictures of you on the wall. I want you Gus, I don't care about being remembered or living any longer. What's my life worth, Gus? I'm a failed mutation in genes."

The tears are trailing down her face now. I stand up and put my hands on both sides of her face and try to wipe away the tears, but it's no use. She looks up directly at me again,"You know Gus, when I was in the hospital once and I couldn't breath and my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain I held up nine fingers because I was unable to talk. The nurse came back in later and she called me a fighter because I had called a ten a nine. But, Gus, the truth is, I wasn't calling it a nine because I was a fighter, I called it a nine, because I was saving my ten. And Gus," her voice is cracking horribly now and I have tears streaming down my own face,"you are my ten. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about you, that the pain isn't overwhelming, because it always is. I see you in everything Gus. I can't get out of the rain, there is no rainbow, you were my rainbow." She pauses to gulp for air," Every time I get a phone call I have some irrational thought that it's you, that you are calling me and that you'll tell me everything is okay." She's quiet for a moment, and she looks down at her hands that she wrings in her lap,"I always thought that I was going to go first. In some ways I wish I had. Who else is going to speak for me at my funeral?"

"I'll be there." I say quietly, I know she can't hear me, but I can't help it. Her hands are shaking so hard now and my lips are trembling uncontrollably. She told me one time that she was the grenade, but it's me who is. "I'm sorry Hazel Grace. I was the grenade. I'm sorry because I did nothing to minimize the casualties." To tell the truth, if I had known that my body was made of cancer, before I fell in love with her, I still wouldn't have done anything differently. I still would've loved her as I did. "Does it make me selfish that I loved you Hazel? Does it make me selfish that I made you love me even when I knew I was the grenade? I'm so sorry." My voice is simply a cracked sob now and I press my forehead to hers, but she can't feel me there, and it's the most frustrating thing in the world. I want her to stop crying, I want her to smile at me. If her happiness means that she needs to die so that I can make her smile, then…. That can't happen. I won't let it happen. She is the observer the universe desired.

She speaks again,"You made me feel like I wasn't cancer. The time before you I was made of cancer, and I had become cancer like so many others. But you… Augustus you came into my life. You suddenly made my cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around seem like it was worth the struggle, worth the chest tubes and PICC lines and the ceaseless bodily betrayal of tumors."

"You know, I told Patrick I wanted to die. And I do. I didn't know I would love you so much."

She looked up,"My lungs suck, my life sucks, a world without you, Gus, my love, is sucky."

She abruptly stands up, I know she can't handle the pain anymore, I know that she has been holding her feelings in for a while now, but as she starts to leave she trips over her own oxygen tank. I rush to her side, but I am helpless, I can't lift her, hell I can't even feel her skin against mine. She leaves her face in the grass for a while and just shakes her head. She rolls over and I know she's okay. She's cussing up a storm (in Hazel Grace style) and sobbing at the same time, while hitting the tank. "Goddamit, you're supposed to help me douche pants."

As douche pants leaves her lips a smile opens on my face through my burning throat and blurred eyes. My badass Hazel Grace; beating up her own oxygen tank. I watch as she curls up in a ball, the grass stabbing into her sides.

I kneel next to her and place a hand on her shoulder,"Hazel, Hazel Grace. It's time to go home. Get up and read a book about zombies, your mom is probably so worried about you." And she does. She does get up and walk away. I watch her leave. I love the way she walks, her hips sway beautifully under her baggy jeans. She always tried to cover herself, but you couldn't help but notice her beauty, I know her beauty, I know all of it. I know her love, I know the feeling of her bare skin against mine, and I love her.

It's selfish of me, but I gave up hiding what I wanted a while ago. I want her. I want her to be with me someday soon.

**Hazel's POV-**

I wake up to the sound of my phone's ding in my ear. It lights up in my face as I pull it to me. I hate getting phone calls. I always expect it to be Augustus. I always expect it to be one of our 'okay? okay' wars. But instead it's a reminder.

**July 2- Augustus's Death Anniversary **

It's been one year.

One whole year without Augustus.

I can't tell you how many people told me it would get better with time. What a load of crap. Ask me and I'll tell you it gets worse with time. Because you start to forget. There was a time, about a month ago I forgot what his voice sounded like, I forgot what the great love of my life's voice sounded like. My hands had started to shake because I knew I needed to remember him. I needed to remember everything about him. I immediately called his phone and listened to his voicemail and was so relieved when I recognized his voice.

I lean back into the bed and click open 'Photos' on my phone. I have a whole album dedicated to him, although the photos are limited. The last photo I scroll to is one of Isaac and Augustus. Augustus has his unlit cigarette stuck in his crooked smile, his arm is draped over Isaac and his other arm holds the almost empty pink egg carton. Isaac's black sunglasses are pointed towards something other than the camera. The green Firebird behind them has yellow egg yolk dripping down the windshield and bumper.

That was the last picture I took of Augustus Waters. I figured it wouldn't be right to take pictures of him while he wasn't… Augustian.

I can feel the familiar pain of him licking through my body, like an unstoppable fire, even Smokey the Bear himself couldn't quench.

"Mom." I call out. I couldn't help but let my voice screech a little bit, but I calm down as soon as she comes rushing in.

She runs a hand through her hair and presses a hand against her heart,"What is it Hazel?"

I simply hold up my phone to show her the reminder. I watch as her eyes grow sympathetic, I don't want sympathy, I just wanted to show it to someone. I thought maybe the pain would stop if I shared it with someone else. I close my eyes tight and we're both quiet for at least a minute. It's one of those awkward moments where you just can't form words because there's nothing left to say.

I look back up at her and watch as she wrings her hands and looks slightly nervous. "What is it mom?" I can tell I won't like what she's going to say next.

She opens her mouth," Mrs. Waters has invited us to a party today and she wanted you to come-"

"No." I say before she even finished. I know it's not a party. It's one of those depressing

things where everyone cries and tells stories about their dead loved one. There's no way she was going to make me go, my life was already depressing enough.

Mom tilts her head,"Well I'm going whether you like it or not. And you can't be home alone." I know she wants me to be social. I had resorted to my old schedule of watching re-runs of Top Model and Top Chef since Augustus was gone. I remembered when Augustus told me about Caroline, I could never imagine having dated a dead person, but now I have no choice. I don't know how he lived with the pain.

Netflix is a beautiful thing.

I wanted to tell her that I'm never alone. That I'm constantly haunted by the thought of him and his smile that belonged in the Department of Slightly Crooked smiles with a dual appointment in the Department of Having a Voice That Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin, but I know that won't help my situation. "Isaac. Isaac and I can hangout."

I see her face light up at that idea, I hadn't really been with a friend for a few weeks. "Okay, you. Call him now and just be careful sweetie."

I don't even call Isaac. I just drive to his house and pick him up. He just gets in the car, with my help, of course, and doesn't ask a single question. He sits still for a second and then he turns to me, his glasses that used to make his eyes look like they dominated his face, had been replaced with dark sunglasses,"Has it really been a year?"

I don't say anything for a moment before a quiet,"Yeah,"escapes my lips. He reaches over and his hand finds my shoulder.

He whips his head to look at me, well I guess he can't exactly see me, but his hand clenches on my shirt. "Is this Augustus's?"

I look down, it is. No, _was_ Augustus's. He wore it on the first day we met. I wore it the night he died. "It was."I finally answer.

"I can feel it."

His grip just grows tighter on the shirt, he seems to be absentmindedly clinging to it; clinging to Augustus. "I miss him Hazel. I know I said I never wanted to _see_ a world without Augustus and I haven't, but I can _hear _it and I can _feel _it."

"Can you smell and taste it?"

"I know _you_ can."

Even though our kisses were few, the absence of his lips on mine, the absence of his skin touching mine was strong. God I love him. I loved just being with him. His scent had left his shirt months ago. I could go to his room and steal his whole wardrobe, but I know that if I take a step into his room I might not ever leave. I went to his room on my grand search for his eulogy, but the only reason I left was because I was so determined to find what he wrote, even if it wasn't for me, I had to read it.

"Have you been in his room since…?" I ask Isaac.

"I made it about a step down the stairs before I couldn't take it anymore." He's quick to change the subject,"Were you invited to Mrs. Water's party? Why am I asking? Of course you were, but you aren't going, are you?"

"No."

"So... where are we going?"

"I don't know." Augustus somehow gave me a purpose. I always knew where I was going (most of the time it was his house.)

"Go to the heart of Jesus."

I don't ask any questions, just drive to the heart of Jesus and help Isaac to the very room where we had a stare down that first day(I won). I remember the way his eyebrow quirked up at me, I think that's when I knew I was done for, no I was already his when I ran into him and then he ran into the door, he could probably seduce the door if he wanted to. I smile and bite my lip at the memory.

Isaac's voice interrupted my thoughts,"Stop smiling. I'm too sad to deal with your lovey dovey lip biting."

"You can't see shit Isaac."

"I know what you're remembering."

"Since when did you become an all-seeing blind wizard?"

"I like that. Call me Isaac the Powerful."

"How about Isaac the Blind and Wise?"

"Works for me." He shrugs his shoulders,"Can you please leave me in here for a few minutes? I need to throw a fit about how unfair life is."

"Just don't break any chairs."

"Not guaranteeing anything."

I don't tell him to be careful because he can't see. I know the feeling of people telling me that I can't do anything because I have a colony of tumors for lungs, so I will not tell Isaac that he can't grieve for his best friend. Sometimes I feel like he loved him more than I did.

I walk back up the stairs, out of the heart of Jesus. I lean against the door Augustus ran into. I shove my cheek against it and close my eyes. I can almost imagine myself walking smack dab into him again, he was so sexy. I wish I could somehow go back in time and tell myself completely ignore him, to not fall for him. No, I'd tell her to kiss him now, as much as possible, and spend 24/7 with him. Even though he's left a scar deeper than any surgery scar, he's still the reason why I still breathe. Somehow, someway, he gave me hope, he showed me that I can be happy. I can't unlove Augustus Waters.

I jump as I hear crashing from the basement and I hear Isaac throwing his fit,"IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME INSTEAD OF YOU! I've lost everything;my hot girlfriend, my sight, and you. Hazel needs you Gus, the world needs Augustus Waters. No one needs me."

I shut my eyes and stop listening. The death of Augustus Walters has squeezed everybody's heart, but for Isaac, it left a crater. Soon I hear the ticking of his cane coming towards me.

"Has the damage been done?"

"The victims may be missing a few legs."

His answer would normally make me laugh, but I haven't been normal for a year.

I guide him back to the car and he slumps into the seat. "How are the treatments Hazel?" He says as a silence filler, I know he isn't interested in my treatments.

I sigh,"Everything is... Normal I guess. Same shots, same pills, same thing over and over again."

I back the minivan out of the parking lot and turn on Hectic Glow.

"Hazel." His voice is serious. "You need to throw an Isaac fit now."

"I'm not going to break things in the heart of Jesus." _Or in Augustus's room like the Night of the Broken Trophies._ I think to myself.

He's silent for a moment. "Hazel, you don't have to break things. Well, actually you kind of have to. You have break that wall that's keeping you from screaming in pain. It's much better than holding it in."

"Why should I? It's a perfectly good wall."

"Because you owe it to him. He loved you more than anyone. He'll hear you."

"Okay." I say quietly, but that single word, made of four letters nearly shatters my heart and

bones. Bones. Funky Bones.

I know where I'm driving now.

…

I drive into the parking lot near Funky Bones. It's completely empty, except for the leaves vainly trying to flutter into the sky and the basketball court next to the field, I can almost imagine Gus throwing essentially fraught free throws. Nobody is even at the museum. It's as though the park was reserved for me.

"If I don't come back in ten minutes call 9-1-1." I watch as Isaac lifts his phone to his mouth,"Set timer 10 minutes." The time started to tick. Time is a slut; it screws everyone.

I get out of the car and shut the door. I can't do this. I can't. My hand goes back to the door and then I feel him. I don't know how to explain it. It was like a rush of love and happiness and everything Augustian. Augustus told me once that he believed in the conversation of souls, and I'm pretty sure that's what's going on.

I let my legs carry me down the slight incline that counts as a hill here in Indiana and to sit on the Femur, the biggest bone in the human body. I park the tank next to my thigh and wait for the words to come, but they don't. I can hardly breathe, but then again that's normal. Break down my walls? How am I supposed to do that?

Last time I was here Augustus and I sat near Funky Bones and had somewhat of a picnic with expensive champagne and paper Winnie-the-Pooh cups. He told that he imagined himself as the skeleton, so I guess I am metaphorically sitting on Augustus's bones.

I feel a brush against my hand, it could've easily been nothing, just a brush of air, but I knew it wasn't. The way it sent tingles down my spine wasn't from a breeze. I studied my hand for a moment before the tingle breached my wall. I'm going down.

Then I start to talk to the air, like Gus is there, like he's physically standing in front of me. I give him the eulogy I was unable to give him."Gus." I start out. "It's been a year since you died." My eyes are starting to water. I've spent a lot of my time in the past year trying not to cry, especially in front of the people I love. I've clenched my teeth, looked up at the ceiling, smiled large fraudulent smiles, but for Augustus I cry, "I was invited to your mom's death anniversary party for you, but Gus, I can't go, I can't bear to go to your house while you're not there, I can't bear seeing your books, your video games. I don't want to see pictures of you on the wall. I want you Gus, I don't care about being remembered or living any longer. What's my life worth, Gus? I'm a failed mutation in genes."

"You know Gus, when I was in the hospital once and I couldn't breathe and my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain I held up nine fingers because I was unable to talk. The nurse came back in later and she called me a fighter because I had called a ten a nine. But, the truth is, I wasn't calling it a nine because I was a fighter, I called it a nine, because I was saving my ten. And Gus, you are my ten. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about you, that the pain isn't overwhelming, because it always is. I see you in everything Augustus. I can't get out of the rain, there is no rainbow, you were my rainbow."I pause as air becomes a shortage and after I catch my breath I begin again," Every time I get a phone call I have some irrational thought that it's you, that you are calling me and that you'll tell me everything is okay."

"You made me feel like I wasn't cancer. The time before you I was made of cancer, and I had become cancer like so many others. But you… Augustus you came into my life. You suddenly made my cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around seem like it was worth the struggle, worth the chest tubes and PICC lines and the ceaseless bodily betrayal of tumors."

"I always thought that I was going to go first. In some ways I wish I had. Who else is going to speak for me at my funeral? You know, I told Patrick I wanted to die. And I do. I didn't know I would love you so much."

"My lungs suck, my life sucks, a world without you, Augustus, my love, is sucky."

At this point of my grand soliloquy, the pain is so strong I would call it an eleven. I have to get out of here I can't handle it anymore, too. much. wallbreaking.

I stand up and take a step forward only to trip over my own oxygen tank. I lay there with my breath knocked out of me for a while before I curl my hands into the grass and shake my head as cries escape my throat. The cries are so similar to when I first got the call. They're so hoarse and broken. I'd only heard it in the ANTM when Anastatia lost or when my mom thought I was going to die. I'm glad nobody's around to witness this, because it's just plain pitiful.

I roll over and sit up and give my tank a pointed look before cussing it out. I kick it and consider banging it against the Patella, but I decide to not destroy my lifeline. I curl up next to one of the bones, the grass is stabbing my side and will definitely leave annoying cuts.

I consider just laying here and taking the nubs out of my nose and letting myself struggle for air like a fish on land, until Isaac's timer goes off, but I don't. For some reason I feel like I need to keep living. I need to keep attempting to breathe.

I slowly get up and drag my tank after me. I suddenly feel like I need to read the entire

_The Price of Dawn_ series again.

Even as I walk away I can't shake the feeling that he's with me. It feels like the invisible and tenuous third space we could only share together when we were on the phone. I've craved this feeling for a year now, but now that I have it, I want more.

I want to be with him someday soon.

**Author's note:**

Thank you so much for reading this, I'm so glad that you took the time out of your life to read something so dear to me. But truthfully, all of this belongs to John Green. I don't mean that he wrote it, I wrote it, but it's his characters, his story and a lot of those words are his. In fact, all of them are probably his, if you think about it, all books are made of the same 26 letters, combined to make the same words and most of the time those words are wasted, but once in a while they are combined to make something absolutely beautiful and that happens to be, for me, _The Fault in Our Stars_.

Now let me tell you why I wrote this. I happened to be thinking about the similarities between Van Houten and John Green and I know all of you want some for a sequel, so like Gus always wanted to write Hazel a sequel, I am your Augustus. (I'm not actually a guy.) Like Gus, I'm pretty sure I'm a crappy writer, and I'm pretty sure I'm a good person, so I'm sorry if it wasn't quite what you wanted. This is my first attempt at writing anything like this really. The words have tortured me for a while, begging me to write this and I really hope I've used them right.

"Writing does not resurrect. It buries." - Peter Van Houten AKA John Green

-Essie


End file.
